


Counting Freckles

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By MJ.In which toasts are drunk and some sheets get wrinkled.
Relationships: Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 1
Collections: Least Expected





	Counting Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters were created by J.R.R. Tolkien and belong to him alone. I make no profits from their visits to any of these stories.  
>  Feedback: Yes, please!  
>  Story Notes: This will make more sense if you've read the preceding stories: [Cakes and Cobwebs (Parts 1 & 2)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320099) and [The Best of Connexions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320210).

At this time of an evening, the Third-best Parlour on the ground floor of Brandy Hall usually stood empty, most good Brandybucks having retired to more private quarters, such as warm bedrooms or tidy pantries. But tonight it was playing host to an intimate party of two, along with the remains of a delightful midnight snack and a nearly-empty jug of Best Buckland Brew. 

"Wait a moment, wait... I think, I think I've got one." Merry cleared his throat and lifted the mug as high as possible, considering the wobbly state of his wits... "To Grandfather Agal..., Adalgrim, without whom this, this... Eh, this 'what', cousin? I've lost my words..." The arm was lowered to a more reasonable level. 

"Why Grandfather Adalgrim?" Pippin peered into his mug and snorted. "According to my father, he managed to do quite a bit of 'without whom' in his day. Think he bred petunias or something..." 

"Well, yes, but you see..." Merry let the mug fall to his knee and frowned. "Without 'im, you and I wouldn't be you and I, right?" He swung his head round and managed to focus, albeit dimly, on Pippin's face. "Right?" 

"Oh, yes, and do you know how often he gets blamed for that, cousin?" Pippin snorted again and eyed his feet, propped up comfortably on the low table in front of the fire. "Didn't you hear Aunt Peony at breakfast day before yesterday? You'd think grandfather'd bred children just so's he could have grandchildren like us to annoy the likes of her uppity sort." He wiggled his toes. "Sometimes wonder what sort she is..." 

"Oh, no, my dear Took. No wondering for us, not tonight. Just toasting." Merry hiccuped gently and lifted his mug once more. "I have at least one swallow left and I think Alde..., Adalgrim should have it. So, here's to Grandfather, for his foresight in providing us with parents." 

"To Grandfather..." 

Both mugs went bottoms up and long-dead Adalgrim was duly saluted. 

Merry licked his lips and sighed with great contentment. "What was Grandmother's name again?" 

"No idea..." 

"Right..." 

The fire crackled merrily away on the hearth as they sat on the fine old sofa, comfortably propping each other up and comtemplating the fine abilities of the beer-makers of Buckland. And it could rightfully be supposed, after this their third large after-supper top-off of the evening, that their appreciation knew no bounds. 

"You know what, cousin?" Pippin held his mug high, turned it over, and let the last drops fall on his tongue. Excellent stuff. "I've been thinking. And you know what we should do?" 

Merry closed his eyes and hiccuped softly. Even with his wits scattered to the four corners and back, he knew this was a dangerous question. "No, no... Hold on, my lad, hold on..." The mug wobbled as he pointed. "Advice from you is, at the best of times, suspect. Mark my words, Pallagrin Took, the last time you told me what we should do, we ended up in Old Burrywart's muck pile, and I have yet to understand why we were within ten miles of his horrid place to begin with! So, no advice today, if you please." He hiccuped again and eyed the wobbling mug. "Excuse me..." 

Pippin puffed a stray curl away from one eye. "But I do please, Merry mine. And what I was about to say..." He grinned at the room at large. "What I was about to say was, ...couldn't we go upstairs? Somewhere? And pop buttons?" He gazed happily into the bright, warm fire. "Count all the little freckles on your belly?" 

"What?" Damned hiccups... Merry shut one eye, thought about those words, the way they buzzed in his ears and what they meant. And smiled at the mantelpiece. "Ah, buttons, buttons... Oh, yes, Passelgrin, when you get it right, you get it right." With a sigh that was almost a groan, he stretched from head to foot. "I have two legs, my dear pudding. Shall they come, too?" 

And, of course, that was absurb, which Pippin gladly explained very softly in Merry's ear. Or at least, he intended to. But he might have said something else, for Merry laughed and seemed to go shivery all of a sudden and then dropped his favorite mug on the floor. And soon their fingers were tangled and it was past time to go. 

"Here, my lad, hup your two legs down and we'll find out what you're made of." Pippin stood up and slipped his hand under Merry's arm, slowly pulling him to his feet, where he stood swaying gently like a young reed in a fair breeze. "Do you know, Master Brandybuck, I think you have had far more splendid Buckland beer than you can fairly handle. So I say we go find your rooms, get cozy, and count your hiccups." And then the exchange of several delightfully beery kisses was necessary, which delayed their departure by some minutes. And by the time they had wobbled to the door of the parlour, they were feeling immensely cheerful. 

Pippin leaned out the doorway, peering left and right, ears tuned for the slightest sound. "Now think, cousin. Do you remember where in this great warren your rooms are?" A soft puff of laughter tickled his ear and he turned to slip his hands under Merry's waistcoat, where it was snug and warm. "Because if you do, then I say we go there and pop all of these buttons. And then we mark exactly where the bed is...," He let his lips just touch Merry's. "...and climb in and tell each other lots of stories." And Merry looked at him for a long moment, swaying gently, eyes full of happiness and mystery, and Pippin felt his body grow very warm and his clothes began to seem far too tight. "Find the bed, Merry my love. Now..." 

And then it was all a rush and they were holding on to each other, breathless with laughter. Somehow they managed to avoid the most delicate furniture, but every stairway seemed to have grown extra steps and it was all they could do to stay shushed through the quiet, dim hallways. But for every corner turned, they stole secret kisses. And every time they reached the top of a staircase, more buttons were teased from greedy buttonholes. And finally, after what seemed like hours, they arrived, shaking and not a little impatient, at Merry's apartment within Brandy Hall. 

It took a few moments to kiss their way through the door and kick it shut behind them, and by then, Merry could hardly stand up. His breath was in tatters and all he could think of was how hot he was and how good Pippin tasted. Breaking the kiss with a sharp moan, he demanded, "My dear flummery, how can you expect me to grab you in all the right places if we are not naked? Dammit, you're laughing!" The floor seemed to tilt sideways just a bit. "Master Took, be so kind as to help me with these things I seem to be wearing still. I want to be wearing you, if you please." And then quick hands grabbed him as he teetered backwards and he was being delightfully kissed once again while a hundred fingers attacked his clothing. 

Pippin glared at the last of the shirt buttons and briefly considered ripping them all off, but if Granny Hebe had sewn them on, they were here to stay. Oh, it was all taking far too long... He sagged a little as Merry's mouth found a tender spot under his ear... Dearest, wonderful Merry... And then he reached skin and flung the waistcoat and shirt somewhere far away as the heat rose through his own body. 

"Oh, Merry, I can feel you." With a gasp, Pippin grabbed a handful of trousers. "You're all hard again, like before." And then he was trying to breathe and master those last few buttons. And finally Merry's trousers lay in a heap on the floor. "I want to see you, I want to feel you. You're so..." Pippin's eyes shone in the light of the flickering fire. Grinning into Merry's flushed face, he whispered, "You're like a great oak, cousin. Like a towering spruce..." He backed Merry slowly toward the bed. "Like the ancient root of an old willow..." 

Shouting with laughter, Merry fell backwards to bounce lightly against the flannel sheets, arms outspread. "Pippin, my dear love, shut up and come climb this oak, come scale this spruce!" He waved a finger at the grinning figure now shedding buttons and cloth. "But if you dare uproot this ancient willow, I shall pull your stump out the back of your legs, see if I don't!" 

With a shout of his own, Pippin flung his trousers across the room, narrowly missing the fireplace, and jumped onto the bed to crawl slowly up the sprawled figure. Kneeling astride Merry's hips, hands on either side of his head, Pippin bent down to whisper, "Do you know what I'm going to do, cousin?" He tucked his tongue between his teeth and grinned. 

Eyes half-shut, Merry shook his head and took a breath as far down as he could and managed to squeak, "No, dearest Pippin, I don't... But I should like grabbing, if you please." His breath hitched as a warm mouth fastened on the crook of his neck. "And the word ravage comes to mind as well, only... Please, whatever it is, do it now?" And, dammit, the lad was laughing again... 

"Oh, Merry, Merry, mine..." Pippin tried to catch his breath. "You shall have grabbing and ravaging both, for I intend to climb your great oak..." He slipped one arm under Merry's head and whispered, "...and conquer your mighty spruce." 

And then it seemed to Merry that all the kissing that had gone before was as nothing compared to this. This was kissing beyond what the tales spoke of. And he lost himself in the heat of it, lost the sense of his own body in the exquisite pleasure of Pippin's hands and mouth as they roamed where they would. 

"You taste of salt, Merry. And something sweet, I can't tell..." 

Merry heard his own voice babbling, had no idea what. Nor did he care, because Pippin was still moving... 

"And I shall suck very hard, right here..." 

Merry's breath was sobbing in his throat and he gave up any pretense of thinking... 

"I was going to count your freckles, cousin, but I've decided I shall do something else..." 

Merry gasped, hands flailing. There was fire up his legs and in his belly... 

"You're like velvet..." Pippin's voice was barely a whisper. "Like velvet over a great, fine walking stick." 

Merry felt a clever hand twist round the heat between his legs and he arched as high as he could not to miss any part of it... 

"Oh, cousin... Do you feel as good as I do?" And it was just like before, the sensation coursing through Pippin's body. Something hard lay against his own belly, but all he could think of was Merry. And the look on his face. And the heat of his skin. And the way his body moved slowly beneath his own. And the delightful sounds Merry was making, sounds that pushed inside his own skin and he thought he might be melting. 

And it was so easy to let the ancient rhythm take hold and carry them through the heat, through the fire. For as long as they wished. 

Until far, far away, deep in the middle of it all, somewhere between crying and shouting, Merry's eyes opened wide and liquid heat splashed against his belly. Rocking hard against the body pressing above him, he felt Pippin shudder and gasp, and a second gush of heat pooled beside the first. 

For long moments, they sprawled together in the center of the bed, damp and shaking, breathing deep of the intoxicating scent filling the room. And as his scattered wits returned, Pippin decided they should toast Grandfather Adalgrim at least once a day... 

Shifting a little, Merry tightened his arms around the welcome weight pressed across his body. "Dear Pippin, do you know how much I love you?" A hiccup slipped out as he yawned wide. "Oh my, at least that much..." 

Pippin chuckled and buried his nose in the damp curls caressing his cheek. They smelled wonderful. "You fiendish Brandybuck, whatever shall I do with you?" 

"I'd say you already have. And I shall, I shall have to see about..." He yawned again. "So... just you wait..." Merry's voice died away and with a little sigh, he was fast asleep. 

Pippin stretched as much as he could within the arms snugged tightly round him. "Whatever will they make of us in the Tookland." Reaching for the covers, he pulled them up close and smiled to himself. "But I dare say it'll be better than a party finding out..." 

The End


End file.
